It's A Question of Virility, Doctor and Mrs Smith
by Anya2
Summary: Clara comes up with the best plans. That's why she's the boss. (Set during The Crimson Horror)


**Author's Note: Well I was dared to write something naughty based upon the line 'you're the boss' and it seemed efficient to fit that in with the near trope of them having to prove that their married somehow. The episode was so fun and cheeky it rather felt like this should be the same so here's a bit of fun naughtiness for your enjoyment. (And before anyone shouts at me, the next part of Close Quarters is coming and is certainly not abandoned - it's currently being thoroughly edited! Considering this an interlude :p)**

* * *

"Virile young couples?"

A bemused frown graced the Doctor's features to accompany the question and whether he was genuinely clueless or just playing at it, Clara found difficult to tell.

"Virile young couples," she confirmed with a blunt nod, clinging lightly to his arm as they walked along the riverbank. They presented the perfect picture of a young married couple out for an afternoon stroll. If, of course, that particular perfect married couple were also plotting the next step in the investigation of a bunch of mysterious, waxy red corpses that'd been showing up. Clara rather liked that; coupley and yet entirely unconventional, that was them.

"She actually said that? At her recruitment drive?" The Doctor's frown deepened as though it really didn't make any sense to him at all. Which meant that Clara would have to explain it to him.

Oh dear.

He scratched at his head in his confusion, accidentally tilting his hat to a funny angle - his love of hats boarded on a fetish in her opinion - and she reached up to straighten it before taking his arm again.

"Well not _at_ it," she corrected. "It _was_ in a church; their bonnets probably would've popped right off if she'd said that. No, I followed her into the backrooms after and heard her talking. Apparently she's getting over run with applicants now but not the right sort; she's starting to get picky."

Which would explain why, when they'd introduced themselves to her as 'Doctor and Mrs Smith', newly married couple who were interested in joining Sweetville, she hadn't seemed immediately taken with them. She'd been polite, initially a bit nosey maybe, but ultimately disinterested. She certainly hadn't offered them a place in her community which was what they'd been angling after. She'd simply told them to sign the register and she'd get back to them if she considered them suitable. So far though? Nothing. Which is why Clara had gone to the recruitment drive whilst the Doctor continued to play with his chemistry set. Or continued to analyse the red coating on the corpses as he preferred to put it.

"So who's she getting that she doesn't want then?" the Doctor asked, apparently still none the wiser.

"Too many singletons, moral types and older people. None of which are much help I suppose if you want your perfect utopia to last more than one generation."

Light bulb moment.

"Oh!" the Doctor said brightly as the whole thing suddenly fell into place. "She wants people who are likely to…" He chewed his lip, contemplating how best to put it. "Procreate."

Clara gave him a dry look. She was beginning to wonder if he'd picked up a few of his own more delicate sensibilities from this particular era.

"Yes, or as she put it." Clara mimicked her accent best she could. "_'I need less people who study the Bible, Mr Sweet, and more who knock the Bible off the nightstand when they go at like bunnies in the springtime.'_"

She seemed like a bit of a loon to Clara but an amusing one all the same. Reminded her rather a lot of her mum's batty old great aunt in fact.

To her surprise, the Doctor frowned once more rather than exhibiting the expected blush.

"Mr Sweet? Who was she talking to?"

"I dunno. I didn't see."

He nodded thoughtfully but whatever he was contemplating he kept it to himself for now. "Well then," he said, looking down at Clara, "we could always pretend you're…expecting."

"No good. She doesn't accept children. Over fourteens only."

The Doctor sighed. He'd been rather enjoying all this 'cloak and daggers' type stuff but it wasn't getting them very far. "Maybe we just will have to break in then. It doesn't have much finesse but…"

Clara looked at him with a sly grin. "Oh there's no need for that quite yet. I think we can change her mind."

* * *

Mrs Gillyflower took tea at Tunnocks Tea and Cake Shop at 3pm every afternoon. She remained there for a full hour at which point she would then retire to her house inside the Sweetville community and wouldn't be seen again until the next day.

At 3:55pm, the Doctor and Clara sat down on the park bench underneath the tree that Mrs Gillyflower's father had planted. The one that she walked back passed every day in a mark of respect.

Which, in the Doctor's opinion, made what they were about to do all the more uncomfortable.

"I'm still not sure about this," he protested half heartedly, looking rather ill at ease as he glanced around them. At least there was no one else in sight at the moment. Still, he was only just getting used to doing this again at all, let alone for the benefit of an audience. Was it embarrassment or the fear of getting it 'wrong' that made him so uncertain? It was honestly hard to tell.

"We have to convince her we're…virile," Clara reasoned lightly with a hint of a smirk. She seemed to be enjoying this far too much.

"But here?" he asked nervously, ringing his hands "In public?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not asking you to do me on the bench."

The Doctor was fairly certain he went pink right to the roots of his hair. "Clara!"

She took pity on him - of a sorts - shuffling closer and taking his hands. Her fingers stroked his gently - persuasively? - thumb circling in his palm. "Come on…" she cooed, "all you've got to do is kiss me…it's not like we haven't done it before. It'll be fun."

As if to illustrate her point she placed a couple of feather light kisses on his jawline and then looked at him with large not at all innocent eyes. He had to concede it wasn't the worst thing he'd ever been asked to do in the name of subterfuge.

"Fine," he sighed, making it sound like he was doing this completely under duress - he wasn't - placing his hands on her waist as the town clock struck 4pm in the distance.

Clara smirked at him. "Good boy. Now just make it…passionate. No flailing."

He nodded down at his hands. He was well ahead of her there. Even with the nature of their relationship being what it was he still had a tendency to flap about a bit when first kissed. Natural reaction? Partly. He just didn't think he ever saw kisses coming and they triggered his innate shock reaction which mostly involved waving about like a grounded fish.

Talking of things that were coming…

"There she is," he murmured, nodding over Clara's shoulder as he spotted Mrs Gillyflower and her attendants entering the park in the distance.

"Good," Clara said with a determination that he found slightly worrying. "Follow my lead."

"You're the boss," he murmured with an uneasy sigh.

Her eyes instantly lit up with wicked amusement. "Am I now?"

Uh oh.

"No!" he tried to take back. "Definitely not!"

"I think I am you know."

"You are definitely not the-"

Her lips stopped him from finishing that, pressing firmly against his and causing him to grip her waist tightly as he let out a very muffled gasp of surprise. There was nothing particularly chaste or gentle about this kiss - she usually started slow for his sake - her mouth all but demanding his response. He'd meant to try and keep a subtle eye on Mrs Gillyflower whilst this was going on but there was absolutely no chance when Clara was kissing him like that, her slender fingers curled around the lapels of his jacket to keep him close.

It continued for several moments with her doing all the work until she pulled back slightly, nipping at his bottom lip.

"Come on Doctor," she whispered, low but not nearly breathless enough. "We've _both_ got to be virile here. No good if she just invites me."

If she was attempting to prod at his pride to get him to play along…well it worked.

She let out a very satisfying little gasp as he wrapped his arms firmly around her waist and dragged her flush to him. He drew her into a hard, opened mouthed kiss, tongue brushing her lips several times before it joined hers. She moaned softly - and wasn't that a sweet sound? - clutching at his arms and returning his kiss in kind. He had absolutely no idea where Mrs Gillyflower was - this was obviously why they didn't normally do this when investigating 'trouble', it was too distracting - and so he moved his mouth to Clara's neck and kissed what he could of the exposed skin there. Through heavily lidded eyes he saw the older woman regarding them with a smirk as she got closer. He kissed up Clara's throat and along her jaw, up to the sensitive spot behind her ear, his tongue dragging lightly over it. He didn't know if it was her timing that was impeccable or his, but she let out a breathy little sigh of pleasure just when they needed it most.

A polite cough interrupted them and they broke apart, pretending to be startled.

Mrs Gillyflower was looking at them in apparent amusement.

"Mr and Mrs Smith, wasn't it?"

"Doctor and Mrs Smith," he corrected, wrapping an arm around Clara's shoulder enthusiastically and clutching her to him.

"Newlyweds by any chance?"

"Just last week," Clara said, falling back in her accent whilst giving the Doctor a shy, embarrassed smile. Oh she was good. "It still feels like a dream."

"I remember it well from my own time," Mrs Gillyflower mused gleefully. "It's nice, to see a young couple so enamoured of one another."

Clara looked rather coy, smiling nervously.

"Oh don't be shy my dear," Mrs Gillyflower insisted. "It's just what this town needs. Active, young blood."

* * *

"Isn't she going to get a bit suspicious if she finds us here again?" the Doctor asked warmly against Clara's lips between slow, lingering kisses. The kind that very much made him forget how long they'd been out here or, occasionally, what they were doing this for.

"It's the only park in the town," she breathed, one small hand cupping his jaw. "And it's actually a nice afternoon for once. What's suspicious about a couple of newlyweds having a picnic?"

And kissing. Lots and lots of kissing.

"I suppose you have a point," he conceded, nudging his nose against her cheek, brushing his lips teasingly over the corner of her mouth.

"Of course I do. It's because I'm the boss."

Without warning she took one of his hands and placed it against the curve of her breast. He was sure she couldn't feel a thing through all the layers of fabric she had on but it would look good to those they were trying to impress. Still, he couldn't let her entirely get away with that.

"No you're not," he insisted, letting his hand drop just to prove his point.

She put it right back again.

"Yes, I am."

The fact that it was still there five minutes later when Mrs Gillyflower walked passed, laughed and bid them good afternoon, rather proved her point.

* * *

At the end of dinner, taken at the only restaurant in the entire town, the Doctor leaned across the table and picked up Clara's hand, kissing her knuckles indulgently. It was an odd move for him - he usually took some time to ease into such openly physical affections, generally starting with small touches and his arm around her - and Clara suspicions were proved justified when he shuffled closer to press a kiss to her cheek and whisper in her ear.

"The women at the window table."

Clara tilted her head, glancing surreptitiously whilst the Doctor nuzzled at her neck. It was an action that proved to be very distracting and it took her longer than it should have to turn back again. Annoying man. He was getting a bit _too_ good at this.

"They work for Mrs Gillyflower," she confirmed, hand resting on his cheek, lips brushing his. People would assume they were whispering sweet nothings at one another, including Mrs Gillyflower's lackeys; Clara recognised them from the recruitment drive.

"They've been following us since this afternoon," the Doctor revealed, warm breath tickling over her jaw as his kisses trailed slowly downward.

She nodded. "Seems like we did get her attention after all then."

"Ready to keep it?" he murmured, nibbling lightly at her neck again until her eyes fluttered involuntarily closed. Then he stood up, leaving her feeling his sudden absence in a move that Clara suspected was very purposefully planned. "Time to get you back to our rooms, Mrs Smith."

Even that ridiculous accent sounded alluring in the wake of what his lips had just been doing and she needed the coolness of the night air to clear her head. They were supposed to be working after all, no matter how fun it was.

The streets outside were dark, some ineffectual gas lamps providing just enough light to avoid tripping on the cobbles. Clara held the Doctor's arm, pressing close to his side as they walked at what she hoped appeared to be a casual pace.

"Still following us?" she asked with renewed focus, knowing his senses were sharper.

"Other side of the street. Certainly keeping an eye."

"Do you think they're suspicious or interested?"

"Don't know," the Doctor admitted. "Shall we make sure it's the latter?"

Clara let out a small shriek of surprise as he suddenly dragged her off to one side, down a little alley between buildings. Far enough down it that it didn't look too obvious, close enough to the street that you'd be able to see them if you really looked. Okay that was smart if annoyingly unexpected.

He backed her up against the wall with a playful roughness, enough to make her feel the intent but not enough to actually hurt. He had a rather naughty look in his eye which made Clara briefly wonder if they'd somehow stumbled upon one of his deep fantasies.

"Oh you are not serious…" she whispered at him, a half hearted protest as his mouth moved closer to hers, lips hovering dangerously near. He was definitely getting far too cocky.

"This was your plan, remember?"

God, he could really kiss when he wanted to, the thought of making him at least ask her nicely evaporating from her mind the moment he started. She clung to his shoulders as his mouth descended rather roughly on hers this time, his kiss demanding and hot. She murmured in delight, lacing one hand through his hair, tugging on it lightly in some form of punishment as her heart started to flutter more quickly. It was that kiss, the one which reminded her that under the external shell of an overactive adventurer on a sugar high, was a man who had most definitely picked up a thing or two about human girls. A man who, despite his often blushing and flustered manner, could really just _want_ her if the moment was right. As if to prove that one of his hands - the one on the side not facing the street - hitched up the masses of skirts she wore, sliding under them. He stroked up her thigh, fingers brushing teasingly against her hip bone for a moment before wandering down to the apex between her legs. His thumb circled lightly over her, the material of her bloomers dulling the sensation, making her wriggle in sheer frustrated annoyance.

She had the distinct impression that he was trying to get control back in this ruse. To remind her that he was the boss after all. Nope, that simply wouldn't do.

Despite the part of her body that wanted - no, demanded - more, she firmly grabbed hold of his wrist and pulled his hand away, feeling him smirk against her lips.

"Too much for you, Mrs Smith?"

"No, you just haven't worked hard enough to deserve that yet," she countered with an easy purr in her voice.

Outside the alley, they heard two pairs of footsteps hurrying away as a heavier pair approached.

"Come along now!" a mildly disapproving voice declared as one of the town constables appeared in the alley opening. "Be off with you. Save that sort of behaviour for the marriage bed, eh?"

He obviously hadn't spotted the Doctor's hand up her skirts, Clara decided, or they'd likely be heading towards a night in the cells for public indecency right now.

"Sorry officer," the Doctor said, tipping his hat at the other man clutching Clara's hand and leading her back out onto the streets. "These pretty young wives, eh? Law unto themselves!"

Clara giggled in pretence for the officer's sake, but whacked the Doctor in the arm once they were out of the other man's sight.

"I'm going to get you back for that," she warned through her fake smile.

"I do hope so."

* * *

Clara headed downstairs to fetch a clean pitcher of water to wash her hair whilst the Doctor stayed in their room pouring over the stolen ground plans for Sweetville, searching for any possible entrances. Two days it'd been since the incident in the alley and Mrs Gillyflower still hadn't asked them to come and see her. They didn't dare visit her lest they make it too obvious that their displays had all been for her benefit but they couldn't just wait around much longer even if the rampant kissing sessions were more than a bit nice. They might be having fun but they weren't getting anywhere and surely it was only a matter of time until the next body showed up. Even Clara was at a bit of a loss as to what else they could do - short of literally ravishing him in the street or having wildly open conversations about his prowess, she couldn't think how much more proof of virility they could supply.

That was until she spotted the woman going into the room next to theirs.

Clara smiled pleasantly at her, wishing her a good evening, keeping her expression on the perfect side of casual. The other woman simply nodded back and closed her door.

As soon as she disappeared, Clara hurried back inside the room she shared with the Doctor, quickly placing the pitcher on the side table. He was sitting on the bed, propped up against the headboard with the plans spread across his lap. He glanced up at her in greeting, giving her a quick smile before he returned his attentions to the drawings, completely oblivious to her sudden excitement. She'd soon change that.

"You know," he mused, "whilst I agree that this woman is clearly more than a bit barmy, looking at these she's also a-"

He didn't get to finish that because Clara had hurried to the bed, swept the plans off his lap and climbed onto it instead, straddling him. She kissed him fiercely, knocking him back into the headboard with the force of it. To his credit he grabbed her waist on instinct but seemed otherwise rather stunned.

"Oh darling…" she said loudly, "you are in one of your moods again tonight…"

The Doctor's eyes widened and his gaze shifted briefly from side to side as if he expected an explanation to leap out at him. When nothing was forthcoming he spoke, looking at her as if she might have gone a bit barmy too. "What are you doing?"

Clara grinned, not hesitating in undoing his bow tie and working down the buttons of his waistcoat as her hips wriggled down against his. She watched his throat, seeing him swallow more heavily at that. Good, he shouldn't be too hard to convince.

"I thought you'd know by now," she teased, smirking. "We've done it quite a few times. Admittedly not always in some as conventional as a bed but…"

He nodded, although still looked confused.

"Well…yes. And it's starting to feel all lovely as always but we are a little busy right now. We have a rule remember; not whilst we're working."

Clara nodded, remembering that 'rule' quite clearly as she proceeded to pull his arms out of his waistcoat, throwing that and his bow tie away. For a man allegedly protesting, he wasn't doing much to stop her.

"Goodness dear," she said, loudly again as she slid his braces down, "I had no idea you were this insatiable. And after this afternoon too!"

"Clara!" he protested like a scandalised maiden, causing her to silence him with a sharp kiss. When she moved her mouth back at least she'd stopped him from talking. Her fingers worked on the buttons of his shirt as she took pity on him and explained.

"One of Gillyflower's little cronies is staying in the room next door," she whispered warmly into his ear, nibbling on it for good measure.

The Doctor turned slightly, looking at the wall behind them. The rather thin wall that separated their room from the adjoining one.

"Checking up on us?"

"It seems so."

Now he very much got Clara's plan. Not that he looked entirely sure about it. Performance anxiety? In her experience she doubted that would be necessary but no point telling him that and feeding his ego.

"We could always pretend," he pointed out.

She shrugged. "We could. But where's the fun in that?"

She popped open the last button of his shirt, hands trailing up feather light his chest as she kissed him again, leaving a trail of shivers dancing across his skin. Her hips rocked gently as she felt him stir more obviously beneath her. Apparently his body was very much on her side.

"Oh okay," he conceded, not sounding anywhere like convincing about this being under duress. "What do I do?"

Clara grinned, repressing a joke about him already knowing that.

"Follow my lead," she instructed instead, pushing his shirt off his shoulders, leaving him in just his trousers whilst she was annoyingly still fully clothed. "I'm the boss, remember? Besides…" she turned to rid him of his socks and shoes, throwing the latter across the room with an audible thump. "I think she might appreciate a strong woman." She pressed her hips down against his, eliciting a surprised moan from his lips. "You obviously do. Now get my dress off."

Once this was over, Clara decided, she really did have to teach the Doctor more about Victorian clothing just in case the found themselves in this kind of scenario again. Admittedly it seemed unlikely but she'd already learnt not to take anything for granted with the Doctor. He took a painfully long time to get her out of her dress, fumbling with the various buttons and laces - 'is this a dress or chastity device?' he complained - momentarily getting her hair caught in something as he pulled the heavy velvet over her head. Not wanting their 'audience' to get bored and leave, Clara provided loud and enthusiastic auditory entertainment whilst she waited for him to get himself sorted.

_"Oh darling, I didn't know you could do that."_

_"Oh yes, there. Right there."_

_"Goodness it's so large."_

His eyebrows shot up into his hairline at that last one and Clara wriggled hers in playful response. "Remember, it's not the size, it's how you use something that counts," she reminded him cheekily, wondering if she could actually make him keel over in a faint if she carried on talking like this or if he was too far gone to care about being embarrassed any more.

He looked almost dismayed as he saw that her undergarments were going to provide equal challenge to her dress but she wasn't prepared to wait through that again just yet. Scooting down his body, she unbuckled his trousers, feeling his stomach muscles hitch as her fingers hooked under the waistband, pulling them and his underwear away together. She quite blatantly admired the view for a moment, grinning to herself before clambering back up the bed again, crawling towards him.

"You know," she said lightly, loosening her hair from its clip, "this might be my favourite adventure with you yet."

She pressed a kiss to his thigh mostly to see the expression on his face but partly to encourage him to join in the 'game'.

"That's because you're a terrible wanton women," he joked back rather thickly, tongue subconsciously licking at his lips as he watched her. Big powerful time travelling alien and she could have him putty in her hands with a few well placed touches. Oh yes, she was definitely the boss.

"You married me," she teased in quick return.

She let her lips ghost up his length and he bucked so sharply that his head smacked against the wooden board behind him.

"Careful dear," she warned playfully, kissing up his stomach and chest until she was straddling him once more. "Although that was good." She eyed the wall suggestively. She bet it'd sounded really good from next door. "More of that, yes?"

The Doctor kissed her fiercely and deeply - '_now who's wanton?_' she thought - one arm tightly wrapped around her. Clara felt that she was still far too well clothed what with her under-dress, corset and bloomers and was about to say so when he suddenly flipped her onto her back, pressing her down into the bed. She let out a small shriek of surprise and then grinned, hands gripping at his back, short nails making him shiver.

"Oh Doctor," she murmured naughtily, "I thought you'd never join in."

"Being a gentleman," he reasoned, hand fumbling down between them. "Letting the lady go first."

There was a tug of fabric, a ripping sound and he flung her bloomers away. Clara wriggled in delight, legs parting slightly. She may be the boss but that didn't mean she was unhappy when he took charge of proceedings.

"Nice move. Can you hear the sound of ripping bloomers through a wall this thin though?" Her breathlessness was a bit more genuine now. And why not? He was all naked and increasingly desirous and she really needed him to get on with things.

"Don't know," he replied, voice lower and a little darker in a way that made her shiver, his short sentences a good give away as to how involved in this he was getting. He kissed her throat, nipping lightly at the hollow, one hand running up her leg. For a man who didn't always seem in control of his limbs his fingers could be remarkably coordinated at times like these. They ghosted underneath her remaining skirt, stroking up her inner thigh until his thumb pressed against that perfect point at the top. She bucked lightly into his hand and let out a genuine moan this time before grinning at him. Oh that was much better and she kissed him more demandingly in response.

"Show me the stars, chin-boy," she challenged, clutching his shoulders.

Apparently he took those sorts of challenges very seriously, shifting down a little, kissing and biting along her collarbone as two of his fingers pressed into her willing body and his thumb began to circle where she needed it. A small gasp of satisfaction shot from Clara's lips and she allowed herself to just enjoy it, not thinking about the purpose of this at all. It was very hard to think about anything coherent in fact when his long fingers were thrusting like that and the pleasure was building between her thighs, his lips sucking at her throat. God, he was good at this. She knew that, thought it every single time in fact, but until he was doing it once again - pleasuring her with a single minded focus that made her tremble - she somehow seemed to forget just how good he was. And yet this was the man who would also still sometimes blush if she kissed him unexpectedly.

In all honesty, it was those contrasts that made her love him all the more.

She could tell that he wouldn't let her finish despite his good work, sensing how he was still holding something back. He just wanted her as needy as he was getting and he did bloody good job; she was aching to just get on with it by the time he pulled his hand away, wet fingers sliding teasingly down her thigh.

He shifted his hips closer to her but she took advantage of his distracted state, twisting, rolling him onto his back as she sat up on him again.

"This needs to come off," she insisted, running her fingers through her already messy hair and looking down at her remaining clothes.

"Really?" he asked. Well almost whined.

"Really."

"It'll take a long time."

"Have you tried panting in one of these things?" she protested. Her breasts were nearly spilling out the top as it was with the way her chest was heaving. ""I might pass out half way through."

"Okay but we're definitely going somewhere where you have less clothing next time," he grumbled, sitting up and starting to unlace her corset.

She helped him this time, him pulling at the laces, her undoing the clasps until it was loose enough to slip over her head. The under dress went far more easily and almost instantly he was clutching her finally naked body next to his, running kisses over her breasts, lips and teeth tugging against her nipples until she was moaning once more. She tilted her head, hair spilling back, tickling over the arms he had wrapped tight around her. Then, after indulging a moment longer, she stroked her fingers through his hair and she laughed breathlessly.

"I think we're getting distracted from our mission again."

Apparently taking that as a cue, he turned her swiftly onto her back once more, the bed bouncing beneath them.

"Very remiss," he agreed, swiftly positioning his hips.

He pushed into her without further hesitation, both of them very ready, the motion causing the bed to rock back against the wall. They contacted again on the next press of his body up into hers. Never mind next door, the whole house was going to hear. Not that she cared.

And trust him to be able to instantly work out the perfect angle to thrust in order to make the bed rock.

Clara arched as he started to set a rhythm, her hands grabbing his hips, head pressing back into the pillow.

"Oh Doctor!" she cried, rather passionately.

His eyes widened more in askance than anything.

"Come on," she grinned, positively glowing. "Play along."

She couldn't fault him on his vigour even if she still had to work on his vocalisation. He rocked into her with slow, deep strokes, bodies pressing warmly together, skin touching skin in a seemingly impossible number of places. Her nails scraped down his back, causing him to arch and let out a low moan that they'd definitely hear next door.

"Better," she breathed, kissing him hotly.

Somehow he managed to be tender with her and hard all at the same time, his passion a powerful and wonderful thing. People called him the Oncoming Storm apparently and she always felt an essence of that in moments like this, seeing the single minded, raw desire he had in just wanting her. It was a determination that was just so very_ him_ in all things. Not to say that her passion couldn't match his own. Her fingers dug into his backside as she encouraged him further, leaving half moon nail marks that were sure to make her giggle come morning. Surely it was fitting that she marked him with moons though? His own hands slid over her body, pinching at her nipples in retaliation, making her moan without even trying to hold back. He still wasn't talking anywhere near enough apart from the occasional gasp of her name and low groans of pleasure but the sound of the rocking bed would be unmistakable from next door. And honestly, Clara was beginning to not care. There was just him now, the warmth of him, the look of utter concentration in his eye - like she really was his whole world - the presence of his body over hers blocking everything else out except the pleasure building low in her spine. Her hands ghosted lovingly over his flesh, feeling the muscles on his back moving, adoring and wanting more of him even when he gave her all he had. Her legs lifted up on instinct, ankles locking at the small of his back, and the new angle made them both let out breathless sounds of desire. She forgot everything entirely then - why they were here, what else was happening, none of it mattered - her kisses moving along his shoulders and up his neck, mouth desperately gasping against his. She just wanted to be with him.

Dimly she heard a dull thump from next to them but didn't care one jot what it was.

His large hands seemed to be everywhere now, like they couldn't touch her enough, leaving her only vaguely conscious of the fact that one was sliding between their bodies, down to where they were joined. And then, with a few strokes of his fingers, she really did see those promised stars, her cry of his name utterly real this time as she tumbled hard and heavy, body arching to meet his. She was only just aware of his hips suddenly losing their own coordination in her wake, his face buried her neck as he cried out her name over and over.

Slowly, her hands on his back became more tender and her legs stopped clasping him so tight as he rested against her, propped up on his forearms whilst he tried to regain his wits. Eventually he rolled off her, leaving his arm sprawled out, knowing that she liked to use it as a pillow after. She did just that, one of her own arms flopping casually across his torso as he grinned at her in lazy satisfaction. He reached up to swipe his own messy hair out of his face before doing the same to hers, all the while looking quite wonderfully sweaty and worn out.

"Well," she said with soft, satisfied sigh, "if that doesn't impress her…." She looked up at the Doctor with a grin. "Impressed me anyway."

"I am very impressive," he agreed, earning him a sharp poke in the ribs.

There was a few moments of contented silence, her fingers drawing patterns on his hip. During that time she recalled the odd thump she'd heard a short while before and she lifted her head a moment to investigate. She grinned again when she realised what'd caused it, settling down with him once more and letting her legs entangle quite comfortably with his.

"Well she's got to be impressed by one thing."

The Doctor raised a curious eyebrow and Clara gave him a look of utter mischief in return.

"We knocked the Bible off the nightstand."

* * *

Clara yawned her way through breakfast the next morning, taking every offered cup of tea and hoping that she'd somehow ingested enough caffeine to get her through the day. It was her own fault really; after they'd both recovered a bit the previous night she'd cheekily pointed out that the woman hadn't left the room next door yet and that maybe they should have another go in order to be convincing. That was what young married couples did she argued. She'd forgotten that he didn't need much rest however and several other goes later she fell asleep in an exhausted heap in his arms. Worth it though, she decided. In more ways than one.

"Doctor and Mrs Smith?" a woman asked, approaching them as Clara was pouring cup of tea number four. "Mrs Gillyflower would like to see you in Sweetville right away. She wants to discuss your application to join us."

The Doctor looked at Clara and grinned. "Smashing eh, love? Just what we were hoping!"

"She must have heard good things," Clara said cheerfully, earning her a light kick under the table.

She was much more openly smug about it as they walked arm in arm towards the gates of Sweetville. "Told you this would work."

"Not the most traditional plan ever but undoubtedly effective."

"And fun too."

"You do have a way of coming up with those, yes."

"Exactly. That's why I'm the boss."


End file.
